


and if you say you’re okay, i’m gonna heal you anyway

by freefallvertigo



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/F, Introspection, anyway doc is sad and dogs always know, something inspired this but i can’t remember what, that’s the mother fuckin TEA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23339017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freefallvertigo/pseuds/freefallvertigo
Summary: The Doctor’s just a little tired, that’s all. She just needs to rest.But a pretty stranger’s service dog thinks there might be more to it than that.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 117





	and if you say you’re okay, i’m gonna heal you anyway

**Author's Note:**

> whipped this up on notes at like 5am cos the ideas been in my brain for ages i can’t even remember where i got the idea i think it was a tweet or somethin? anyway please enjoy 
> 
> title from the cure by lady gaga

So.

Here she was again. Alone.

The charred fabric of her ill-fitting suit itched something awful whenever she moved, which was a pain, because apparently she was a mover now. Restless. Perpetually in motion. _Don’t look back don’t look back don’t look back_. So she didn’t. Not least because the universe didn’t afford her the chance.

She’d crashed into a train car and, as always, something had been waiting for her. But maybe that was what the universe afforded her. A distraction. Always another distraction. With the assistance of a lovely older couple from Sheffield and their grandson - who had housed her while she’d slept; while she’d recharged her batteries and stitched her brand new self together - the Doctor saved the day again. And that was good. That should have felt good. Probably that warm feeling, that rush of victory, would kick in soon. When she wasn’t so tired. 

_ Can’t I rest? _

No.

Stop that. 

Because her TARDIS was still missing and her clothes needed changing and there were people, planets, solar systems to be saved. She could hear them, she thought. Calling out across the cosmos. A line ringing on and on, endlessly. The whole universe in distress and banking on her to do something about it. Sure. Okay. She’d save them again. The ones she could. She’d keep going. Never look back. Never. 

But really, now, she was tired.

Aimless, she wandered through a park, fell with no small modicum of heaviness onto a wooden bench by the pathway. For a small body, those bones sure carried a lot of weight. She rolled her shoulders; tried to shake off those ghosts on her back. Ancient and young alike. All as stubborn as each other. They dug their nails in and would not let go.

_ Fine. Okay. You can stay with me; I’ll carry you. Why not?  _

_I carry everything else._

Somewhere, a dog barked. The Doctor didn’t notice the barking drawing nearer - too busy eyeing the sky, immersing herself in endless blue and wishing it were black instead; wishing it were a starry night or else total oblivion. The dog was not barking anymore. The dog had gone quiet. The dog had his head on the Doctor’s lap. She regarded it with slow, tired eyes. Something happened to her face and at first she struggled to process what it meant when her lips stretched just so but then - oh. She was smiling. Not new, just unexpected. 

“Hello,” she said to the dog. He was golden. A lab.

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry!” A young woman jogged over to the bench. The owner, supposed the Doctor. She had a lead in her hands, anyway. She smiled bashfully and in her fatigued state, all the Doctor could notice was the brilliance of that smile. 

Her own stretched a little wider.

“He doesn’t usually do that, do you, mate?” The woman approached, clipping her lead onto the dog’s collar. “Sorry to bother you.”

“No bother,” refuted the Doctor. And oddly enough, she meant it. “He’s adorable. What’s his name?” She scratched the fur behind his ears and he closed his eyes. He was warm. Calm. The Doctor liked calm. Needed it. 

“Canine,” said Canine’s owner, and if the Doctor was interpreting those tricky micro-expressions correctly, she looked a little embarrassed. “My sister’s genius idea. Her humour’s not very advanced, but. Well. He seems to like it. Responds to it, anyway.”

The Doctor’s smile slipped from her face before she could think to reach out and catch it. Canine. Sometimes cosmic jokes were cruel. Sometimes they were funny. Sometimes they weren’t jokes but something else. Invisible strings. Chance encounters. Pre-decided serendipity. The Doctor leaned back and looked up into the woman’s eyes. She was good with eyes and right off the bat, she knew - these ones were kind. And big. Big enough to behold great wonders. 

“Brilliant name, if y’ask me,” remarked the Doctor. “And yours?” Bold. She was still bold.

“My mates call me Yaz.” And there was that smile again as she stuck out her hand. The smile that was a jolt of electricity shot through her hearts. The smile that was a welcome kick in her teeth. The smile that stretched on forever. The Doctor took her hand. Firm grip. All right. She liked her already. “You?”

“My mates call me the Doctor. And so does everyone else, given that’s my name.” A poor attempt at humour but hey, she was tired, remember? “It’s nice to meet you, Yaz.”

“You too, Doctor.” Yaz sounded earnest. She hovered, uncertain, and the Doctor thought maybe she was about to remark on her clothes, or her bedraggled hair (still not ginger), or thought maybe she’d even been about to ask for her number. Was she attractive? Yaz was attractive.

_ Stop . _

But she was tired. She allowed herself the thought, and then allowed it to dissipate.

“Are you okay?” is what actually came out of Yaz’s mouth. Canine lifted his head ever so slightly. The Doctor instantly missed the warmth on her knee. 

“Me? Splendid!” Her voice fell flat even to her own ears, and the lie lingered awkwardly in the space between them like some glowing sign they both could see.

_Vacancy!_ it read.

“I wouldn’t ask, it’s just-“ Yaz paused. “Canine, he’s my service dog. He doesn’t typically do, well, what he’s doing right now, unless... He can sense when someone’s sad, is what I’m saying.”

The Doctor peered down into the dog’s round eyes. He peered back at her. Unflinching. 

But - sad?

No. She was just tired. 

The dog blinked slowly, disbelieving. Maybe tired hadn’t been the word she was looking for, after all. Head still a little scrambled. Everything a little skewed. She scratched Canine’s head.

_ Wiser than you look, eh? _

“I’m okay,” said the Doctor. Maybe now that she’d diagnosed the problem (sad - was there a cure for that?) she could fix it. Well. She’d put it on the back burner. So much still to do. Her ship. That line, still ringing out, whining in her ears like the shrill after-effects of an explosion. Yes, she’d pick up the phone. Soon. Just give her a little time. 

Yaz’s face was coloured with concern. The Doctor might have questioned it but for those kind, shining eyes. They were all the answer she needed. “Are you busy?”

Was she busy?

Sure, she was busy. The Doctor was never not busy. But all her urgency dulled when Canine nestled his head against her palm and his lovely owner crouched down beside him, looking up at the Doctor like that distress signal was not incoming fromthe wider universe but instead rolled off her in waves. Could Yaz hear it? Was she attuned to the same frequency? Was she here to answer that call?

“No,” the Doctor heard herself saying. “I’m not busy.”

A hopeful gleam; a twinkle in the eye of her saviour. A beacon in the dark. “Fancy gettin’ a cup of coffee? Could use the company myself, to be honest.”

Company. 

There was that warm feeling she’d been waiting for - just a spark, for now. Still, it staved off a little of the cold. She’d like to nurture that flame. She’d like to douse her whole body in petrol and right now, Yaz was looking like a matchstick. 

“Coffee,” she reiterated cheerfully.  Cheerful. She’d have to get used to that. Strange, how it came so effortlessly to her even now. Even when there wasn’t a single star, a single burning sun, inside of herself. Just that one precarious spark. “I like coffee. I hope. New tastebuds, not quite sure yet.”

She could natter. 

God, could she natter. 

As she and Yaz took to the path, Canine nestled between their legs, she talked so fast her respiratory bypass threatened to kick in and she tried to slow but slowing was too much like stopping was too much like looking back and she couldn’t look back. Not ever. 

So she carried on, as ever. 

She carried on, and she drank coffee with her first responder, and she spewed benign nonsense like blood from an open vein, and maybe the spark got a little brighter in Yaz’s company . Maybe that distress signal got a little weaker. 

Maybe she’d found the cure for sad.

(Medicine had never tasted sweeter.)

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: freefallthirteen


End file.
